“You got a visitor, Tess.” He rested his chin atop my head, which caused my pulse to try
to outrun my heart. “Two of them to be exact.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause. “Are your eyes closed?”
“No.”
His chin slid off my head and then his chest rumbled as he laughed. “Your eyes are
closed.” He laughed again. “Open them up.”
Cursing under my breath, I pried one eye open and then jerked against him. His arm
tightened. “Oh wow …”
The black-and-white horse was the closest, standing mere feet away from me. The brown
one wasn’t too far, shaking its head and making soft snorts. My eyes were wide as they bounced
between the two creatures. “They’re not carnivorous, right? Because at their size, they could eat
me.”
Jase laughed deeply as his hand shifted up, resting in the center of my stomach, just
below my breasts. “Horses do not eat people, you little idiot.”
I started, eyes narrowing. “There’s always a first.”
The lips pulled back on the black-and-white horse as if it was smirking at me.
“This one right here? Mr. Friendly? Jack calls him Bubba One,” he said in a quiet,
calming voice. But air hitched in my throat when his thumb moved in a slow circle over the thin
material of my tank top, hitting against the wire in my bra. “And the brown one is Bubba Two.”
Mouth dry, I wetted my lips. “That’s good for remembering names.”
He chuckled as his pinkie and forefinger started to move up and down, reaching my belly
button and then sliding back up. It was almost as if he was unaware of what he was doing, or the
electrifying response the tiny motions were dragging out of me. “I think so too, but his real name
is Lightning.”
Said horse shook his head, tossing the shaggy mane.
“Lightning seems to be a more suitable name,” I admitted, relaxing as the seconds
passed. Maybe that was his intention. Distract me with the soft, almost innocent touches. It was
working. “What about Bubba Two?
“Ah, the one who is staring at the pail like it’s the holy mecca of grain?” His cheek
grazed mine as I laughed. “That’s Thunder. And we’re going to feed them. Together.”
The friction his fingers created with my shirt sent tiny shivers up and down my back.
“With our hands?”
His answering laugh tipped the corners of my lips up. “Yes. With our hands.”
“After checking out the choppers on them, I’m not so sure about that.”
“You’ll be okay.” He slid his hand off my stomach and wrapped it around my wrist.
Slowly, he lifted my hand out in front of me. “Hold still.”
My heart lurched. “Jase—”
Lightning trotted forward and pressed his wet nose against my hand. I cringed, waiting
for him to eat my poor fingers. The horse didn’t. Nope. It nudged my hand as it whinnied softly.
He guided my hand up over Lightning’s jaw, all the way to the pointy, twitchy ears.
“See?” he murmured. “That’s not too bad, is it?”
I shook my head as my fingers curled along the soft coat. Lightning seemed to anticipate
the direction of the petting, pressing his long head against my hand as my fingers tangled in his
mane. It wasn’t bad at all.
Jase shifted behind me, and in an instant all thoughts of the horses evaporated. His hips
lined up against my backside, and I bit down on my lower lip as I focused on the white splotch
covering Lightning’s muzzle.
I could feel him—feel Jase. And there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he was
affected by how close we were standing. That knowledge and the hard length of him left me
dizzy, just like it had done that Saturday night. An all too warm flush spread down my neck. In
the back of my head, I was rationalizing his physical reaction. He was a guy. Our bodies were pressed
together. If a wind blew on a guy’s private area, they got hard. So I should just ignore it,
but my body was so not on board with my head. My body was operating on a different playing
field. An ache centered low in my stomach. A sharp and sweet yearning raced through my veins.
“Not so scary, right?” His voice was deeper, richer. “They’re like dogs. Well, like a dog
that can carry around two hundred pounds, if not more.” Hand sliding off mine, he stepped back,
and the sudden emptiness of his body was like a cold shock. “Trust me.”
Then he smacked my ass.
E.A. Whitehead is the author of Alabama Sons, book one of The Sons Trilogy. She spends an unhealthy amount of time ‘pinning’ things and getting lost in a fantasy world where everything is DIY and she owns a 12-room house to decorate. 
